Triad
by Lotesse
Summary: Very fluffy and vaguely plotless. RH goodness, overstuffed sofas, freckled shoulders, and Harry, who’s just along for the ride


Triad A/n & Warnings: Very fluffy and vaguely plotless. R/H goodness, overstuffed sofas, freckled shoulders, and Harry, who's just along for the ride. Disclaimer: Brevity is the soul of wit, and so I shall be brief. Neither Ron nor Hermione, Harry, Chameleon Ghouls, or the overstuffed red sofas belong to me. Did you think they did? Written during the three-year summer before OotP.  
  
These be Three silent things: The falling snow ... the hour Before the dawn ... the mouth of one Just dead.  
-Triad, Adelaide Crapsey. 1878-1914  
  
Harry Potter had fallen asleep on the overstuffed red sofa. Hermione was amazed that anyone could sleep in a place as noisy as the Gryffindor Common Room at nine o'clock, but Harry didn't seem to have any problems with it. Leaning carefully over her still-damp homework, a lengthy essay on Chameleon Ghouls, she poked Ron's shoulder. He looked up, following her gaze, and smiled when he saw his friend. Harry was curled up into a tight ball of black robes and messy hair. He looked younger when he slept, the anxieties of his life fading from his face.  
When she looked back to Ron, though, his smile had evaporated. "Ron?"  
He shook his head ruefully. "I don't think he slept much last night. Dreams." He fell silent for a long moment, and then muttered, "It's not right." Aloud, he said, "I'm going to take him up to bed, I'll be right back." Walking over to the sofa, Ron bent over and shook his friend's shoulder. "Harry? C'mon, mate, wake up." Harry stretched, grumbled a little, and opened his eyes. "That's it, come on now. There." Ron pulled Harry up into a standing position. Harry swayed a bit, grabbing on to Ron's arm and hanging on for dear life. Slowly the pair of them made their unsteady way up the stairs to the Gryffindor boys' dormitory.  
Ron had it this time, Hermione thought as people started straggling off to bed in twos and threes. It wasn't right. Harry had been very quiet all year. He wasn't depressed or suicidal or anything like that, but he seemed.disengaged, as if he was half asleep all the time. He didn't talk much, and laughed less. Sometimes he'd smile in a wistful way that made her want to hug him. Sometimes she'd do it. It wasn't anything like that; she loved him like a brother. He always objected when she hugged him in public, saying that people would think they were together, but she always laughed him off. She didn't care what people thought, and it was obvious that Harry loved the contact.  
Ron was just as worried as she was. Maybe more. He had to deal with the dreams. He'd grown up an awful lot over the summer; he was so much more serious, with an air of responsibility that absolutely melted her. Maturity suited him. And.had he been dong his hair differently? Because.people shouldn't be allowed to look that good. His shirt had fallen over one shoulder that evening, and one freckled shoulder had peeked out. The awareness had been painful. She had really wanted to go over and start counting them.  
Ron was back, falling onto the sofa beside her. Hermione blushed. She hadn't just thought that. No, not at all. She had not been thinking about his freckles like that. Nope. Not her. "How's Harry?" she asked, hoping against hope that he wouldn't notice the breathlessness in her voice.  
It seemed that luck was on her side; Ron was oblivious, and for once it was a good thing in her eyes. "He fell asleep before I got him in to bed, I reckon. Poor bloke. He shouldn't be so tired all the time. Wonder if he's maybe a bit sick. I wouldn't be surprised. I should really take him to Madam Pomfrey in the morning. I don't care how stubborn he is about it, he doesn't need to come down with something on top of everything."  
Ron was suggesting that Harry voluntarily visit the Hospital Wing? "You've really grown up, Ron, you know that?" Oh no, Hermione immediately wailed. I didn't just say that, did I? What's wrong with me tonight, I keep saying things when I don't mean to.oh, now he'll get scared because I'm being sentimental, and go up to bed, and then I'll be alone again, and I don't want to study right now, I need to be with him. Oh dear. At least we're the only ones down here.I don't think I'd like to talk like this.with him.in front of witnesses. Especially not if I scare him off.  
But Ron didn't get scared, or walk away. His ears did turn a bit pink, but he gave her a surprisingly earnest look and asked, "What d'you mean?"  
"Well," .what exactly did she mean? "For one thing, the way you've been with Harry. For a while last year I."  
"Yeah, I know." He looked almost ashamed. "But I can't this year," he said. "Harry doesn't need to deal with me being a prat, he's got every other problem ever invented. And.Hermione, can I show you something?"  
"Umm, sure." Honestly, Hermione, he didn't mean it like that. "What?"  
"I.I wrote some letters to Sirius last summer. He wanted to know what happened with the whole fight thing.I guess Harry told him, and he got sort of put out with me. He asked me to explain, and wanted my word of honour that I wouldn't turn on Harry again. You think he might be a bit protective of him? But.he sent me this." Ron held out a piece of parchment. It was starting to get a bit worn around the edges. Hermione took it, trying to ignore the fact that her fingers had brushed against Ron's for an instant and that she had been acutely conscious of every centimeter of contact. Honestly, next she'd start to believe in Divination. She was acting like Lavender. She bent over, trying to be brisk and businesslike, and began to read. The letter said:  
  
Dear Ron, I know term starts soon, so this will be my last letter. If you need to contact me, please do so through Harry. I want you to promise me, Ron, that you'll look after Harry this year. I'll come as often as I can, but it's very dangerous for me to spend too much time in one place. You're the one who can be right there, and I need you to take care of him. I won't allow him to be broken by carelessness. Don't allow last year to repeat itself. You're very like me in many ways, Ron. Harry's more vulnerable than James was, though, and he'll need more support. Watch him like a hawk. You don't want to repeat my mistakes. If I hadn't been so remiss James might still be alive, and Harry wouldn't be so easily hurt. But James isn't and Harry is. He's dealing with more than you can imagine, and he'll need you. Please, Ron, look after him. You don't want to have to live with the knowledge that you could have saved him but didn't notice. Don't be like me in that. Snuffles  
  
"Well." Hermione said, feeling slightly stunned. "I think 'protective' is a very good word for him."  
"Yeah," Ron laughed.  
"He must be awfully far away. Look at how worn this parchment is. Do you know where he's been? Is Professor Lupin with him?"  
"Actually, he's not that far. I've, um.I've been carrying the letter around since term started. As a, a reminder, you know? Because I don't want last year to happen again any more than Sirius. And Harry can't really afford me going off in an insane fit of jealousy. And it was silly, even the first time."  
"Oh." When had he grown up so much? This was amazing. Ron Weasley was being more mature the she was. "Oh." Now she'd lost the powers of speech as well. Splendid.  
"Hermione?" He sounded worried. It was quite nice, actually.  
"Mm?"  
"You just got really weird."  
"Erm." Come on, Hermione. More than one syllable at a time. "It's been a really weird year."  
"At least no one we know has died," Ron said bleakly. "Or been involved in anything illegal or evil."  
"You've forgotten Malfoy."  
"Okay, no one we like, then."  
"Sirius, at least with the illegal part."  
"Hermione. You're splitting hairs."  
"I know. It just seems like tempting fate, saying it like that. We've never made it through an entire year without being in mortal peril at least once. And before you say it, I know that Divination is a lot of bunk and that there's no proof of predestination but it just makes me nervous."  
"Hermione, you're babbling. I promise I won't do it again, so be quiet. I can't very well kiss you when you're talking non-stop."  
Did he just say.yes, I think he definitely did. And then he.ooh, did he ever.coherency is overrated because I just got five years worth of wish fulfillment in one dose Ron Weasley is kissing me and tracing little trails of shivers down my waist.is this why Harry likes Quidditch? Flying is awfully fun-  
"Ron? Hermione?" A sleepy, anxious voice from the stairs made them jump apart. Ron removed his hand from a place where Hermione was really not used to being touched, and she couldn't help giving a disappointed sigh as he did so. But there was Harry on the stairs, looking about six in his pajamas and without his glasses, wrangling his hands in front of him and in obvious need of care.  
"Harry," she said gently. "What is it?"  
"Erm, I.I had a dream, and Ron wasn't there, and I was worried, so I- " His voice was high and frightened, innocent and childlike.  
"Harry. It's all right. Come sit down." She patted the sofa between Ron and herself, and curled an arm around Harry when he nestled in between them. She threw Ron a look over Harry's tousled head, a look that clearly said, "I love you I love you I love what you were just doing to me and never want you to stop, but Harry's not okay and I need to make sure he is before we can go back to it." Ron looked back at her, nodding his understanding and agreement. And then she looked back down, petting through Harry's hair as he closed his eyes. Ron rested one of his big hands on the small of Harry's back, rubbing in lazy circles. Hermione watched as Harry's eyes closed, listened as his breathing grew soft and slow and peaceful. She and Ron had him sandwiched between them, holding him close. It was oddly like a family, she thought. A family of choice, not birth. Her bed couldn't be nearly as comfortable as this. Nestling into Ron's freckled, welcoming shoulder she closed her eyes. Her hands were still tangled in Harry's hair, and Ron had an arm around each of them. Nightmares had no chance against something like this. 


End file.
